


a tooth for a tooth

by ennaih (aquandrian)



Series: the Rebel Krennic AU [3]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Imperial Jyn, Jynnic Week, Life Day fic, Rebel Krennic, Role Reversal, and i had to deal with it, and they had to deal, but not Christmas, but then shit got real, it ends all right don't worry, it really was, it was meant to be fluff, the other kind of Life Day, well sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-02-02
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:14:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9539345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aquandrian/pseuds/ennaih
Summary: Someone has a Life Day celebration.Written for the Role Reversal themed day of Jynnic Week.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from _The Mercy Seat_ by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.

He wakes when the door to their sleeping quarters slides open but doesn’t stir, eyes shut as he listens blearily to the sound of a small body clambering onto the berth and making its way up over the covers. It flops down heavy on his chest. “Papa?”

“Liadan.” He grunts and puts his arm around his daughter. Eyes still heavy with exhaustion, he mumbles, “Don’t wake your mother, you know what she’s like.”

Liadan curls up closer to him, her knees digging into his ribs. “Papa, it came out.”

“What came out?”

She puts something very small and wet on his face. “My toof.”

Krennic opens his eyes and picks the thing off, peering at it in the darkness. “Oh,” he says with hushed excitement. “Finally!” 

His daughter beams at him, eyes sparkling in the little light. 

“Well done.” He cuddles her with one arm, reaching to put the tiny milk tooth on the head shelf of the berth. “You’re all right,” he asks her in a whisper, aware of the sleeping body beside them.

Liadan nods up at him, opening her mouth with two fingers like he can see in the dark. 

“Show me later. In the morning. When Mama’s awake.”

They doze off together in the warm berth, the sound of three bodies breathing soft and united.

In ship morning as the light rises soft, Krennic wakes to the sound of murmurs. 

“-- so then I said like, why do we need a Kintan crusher? Why can’t we have a --”

“A rancor,” suggests Jyn.

“That’s what I said,” Liadan exclaims and is hushed. “But he was like, no, a Kintan crusher is better cos then we can fight it and win and I was like, you’re a poopyhead. He’s a poopyhead.”

“Who’s a poopyhead,” Krennic asks, rubbing his eyes open.

“Shara’s little boy,” Jyn tells him. Her mouth curves, the wide lovely eyes warm with amusement. He kisses her lightly and then kisses Liadan’s hair.

“Did you see the -- Liadan, did you show Mama?”

“Yes!” Their little girl scrambles up, all sharp elbows and knees, nearly catching Krennic in the throat as she goes for the shelf. He rescues the slipping covers, exchanging a wry glance with Jyn. She rolls closer, her hand coming to the centre of his bare chest, her face all soft and inviting. 

“See!” Liadan plops down between them, warm in her furry Wookiee footie pajamas. “See, Mama!” She shows Jyn the tooth and then the gap right in the centre of the upper row.

“Oh, wonderful!”

Krennic watches, arm bent under his head, as Jyn checks their daughter’s mouth. Liadan’s been worrying that loose tooth for weeks and everything should be fine. But if it’s not, he’s silently calculating how close the nearest dental technician is, or paediatrician. The ship is flying through realspace, on their way to Bakura. 

“Good. Well done, my girl.” Jyn kisses the little forehead with its soft mass of curls. “Go brush your teeth and get dressed. We’ll be there soon.”

As the door slides closed, Jyn leans over and kisses him. He responds absently, his mind going through all the preparations, ticking off everything that’s been done and that they need to check on when they land. Jyn pulls back and arches a brow at him.

“Sorry,” Krennic murmurs, tugging her back. They have twenty minutes before Liadan calls out for help with dressing. And he’s secretly proud that they’ve adapted to these time constraints, secretly loves the soft gasps and almost illicit feel to their lovemaking now. 

“Mama, Papa --” 

The door slides open and Jyn flops forward on his chest with a little groan just to him. “She’s gotten faster.”

He grins at her exasperation, hastily pulling the covers around her bare back. Liadan’s already climbing onto the berth, huffing with resolve. Luckily, their daughter hasn’t yet learnt to be conscious of her nudity or theirs so she doesn’t think anything of pushing in between their bare bodies to ask, “What’s Sif?”

“What,” they both say automatically. Some deft arrangement, securing the covers around them, and they get Liadan sitting against the pillows, now dressed in her little denim overalls and red top, her hair still a mess. She’s brought her favourite toy with her this time, a battered old X-Wing fighter, and now turns it over in her hands with a small frown.

“Where did you hear that, baby,” Krennic asks carefully, aware of Jyn watching their child with the same intent expression.

Liadan gives them both that unnervingly shrewd look she’s been doing for about three years now. “In here,” she says and taps her finger to her temple.

The thing with having a Force-sensitive child is you learn very fast to control as much of your emotions as possible. Over the past seven years, he’s seen Jyn take her Imperial control to a whole other level. And as much as he hates having to conceal himself from his own child, Krennic has learnt to cool his mind and compartmentalise. She may not be at the level of reading actual thoughts but she picks up emotions like rain on a breeze. There have been some fucking awful times in the crowds of Coruscant or Nar Shaddaa when she’s been rendered hysterical by the onslaught of people and their consciousness. If he felt helpless with rage then, now Krennic looks at his tiny powerful daughter with a ruthless determination.

“Baby, what --”

Jyn puts a hand on Liadan’s little denim covered leg. “Sweetheart, when did this happen? Just now?”

Liadan nods, turning the fighter over in her hands. She knows it’s serious.

A glance exchanged with him, Jyn squeezes their daughter’s knee. “I’ll tell you what, why don’t we give Unky Paps a call now? He’ll want to wish you, anyway. Do you want to talk to him?”

Liadan’s face brightens immediately, making Krennic’s heart lift. “Yeah, okay! Nee-For will --” And she’s off, scrambling down from the berth.

Krennic waits til the door slides shut before he reaches for Jyn. With a sigh, she turns into his arms and says softly, “Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

The covers twisting between them, he lies back down, pressing his face against the silk of her hair. “We knew this could happen,” he reminds Jyn. “She’s so powerful and she’s too young to control it yet.”

“I won’t lock her away,” Jyn says fiercely, lifting her head to glare at him. “I won’t treat my child like she’s a monster, a threat --”

“No, of course not.” They’ve had this argument before and they’ll have it several times again, no doubt, but he knows it’s necessary. The same fear pounds in his chest, fear not of their child but for her and all the ways they can’t protect her from the demons that could enter her mind. “But,” he continues, “she’s learning with Sheev how to protect herself. She’ll get stronger and --”

“And until then, we have to just hope we’ll be enough.” Jyn sighs and presses her forehead against his chest. “Oh god.”

The same despair.

“I wish my mother was here.” The soft whisper into his skin. Krennic tightens his arms around her, a little sick with grief now.

“Mama!” comes the yell beyond the door.

“Coming!”

They get dressed fast and join Liadan in the crew lounge as she chatters happily at the old man on the holonet display. “-- and Grandda’s coming and Uncle Bodhi, and Uncle Bodhi said he’s gunna take me in the U-Wing and then I’m gunna have ice cream anna cake anna Papa said --”

“Yes, my dear,” interrupts Palpatine with the same fondness he’s shown for her all these years. “It will be a wonderful day but that’s not what you wanted to talk about, is it?”

Krennic puts his arm around Jyn as they stand behind their daughter, turns his mouth against her temple. The tension simmers taut in her body, simmers hard in his chest.

“No,” Liadan says softly. 

“Did something happen,” Palpatine asks with careful concern.

“I heard a voice today. When I was brushing my teef. And it wasn’t like Grandma talking to me, it wasn’t like that.”

Silent, Krennic strokes the back of his hand down Jyn’s arm, intent on their daughter.

“What then?”

“It was a new voice, and it said, it said that I’m very special, that I should listen. That I can learn so much. And I said, learn what cos I’m learning from you, Unky Paps, aren’t I?”

Palpatine has gone very stern. But he says with automatic reassurance. “Of course, my dear. What else did it say?”

“That there are other kids like me. With … powers like me. That I could meet them and we would be happy togeva. With our own … kind.”

Krennic’s skin goes cold. Jyn shudders for one terrible second against him. 

“You are with your own kind,” Palpatine says smoothly. It’s exactly the right thing to say, makes Jyn relax, even makes Krennic calm a little in his mind. “Always remember that, Liadan. It’s true you are very special and there are a few other children like you. But you have your own parents who love you, and they have theirs. Don’t you think so?”

Liadan perks up. “Yes! And Grandda and Uncle Bodhi! And Akrsh and --”

“Yes, that’s right. Now I want you to do something for me. Do you remember that exercise we did the other day --”

“The curtain thing?”

“Yes, that’s right. Let’s try that again and this time I want you to --”

Jyn turns out of his arms, moving away towards the caf. Krennic watches her go, a little reluctant to leave Liadan yet even though they’ve returned to the familiar routine of Force training. But Nee-For’s been flying the ship all night, and Krennic feels the need to check everything just to be certain. 

In the cockpit, the astrodroid beeps at him, relates the annoying little things that happened overnight and how they were handled. “Good, good,” Krennic says absently in the pilot’s seat, running one hand lightly over the dials and switches and displays. He still misses the Tangara but it became too small once Liadan got old enough to need her own berth. Now he thinks of his old beloved ship back on Wayland with Reed and Tkir, and he takes control of this ship he loves in an entirely different way. 

It’s a good big ship, strong and lethal enough, fast when he needs it to be. They could have made the jump to Bakura easily but lately they prefer to travel realspace for the time they get to spend together away from everyone else, just the three of them and Nee-For on the Warracknabeal. And now Jyn comes into the cockpit with caf for both of them, laughing at what Nee-For chirps at her on its way out. She slips into the engineer’s seat, silent as the ship zooms on through the sparkling dark. Krennic glances over at her after a while, reaching out for his caf. She passes it to him and they travel in silence, their thoughts weighing heavy.

Eventually she says, “Did I ever tell you about the twins?”

“The Skywalker twins,” he asks levelly, watching the flicker of the nav system. They’re not far now.

“Well, she was raised an Organa. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yep.” He takes a sip, glad that the woman he chooses to share his life with makes extremely good caf.

“There were rumours about them when I was -- when I was growing up. And now that the Empire’s fallen apart, now that Draven’s dead --” Jyn is slouched in the seat, her bare feet up on the console even though he’s told her a thousand times not to do that. At least she doesn’t have her boots on this time.

“What?” He relaxes back, watching her partly because of the conversation and partly because after eight years of being with her, he still loves to look at her. The woman who absolutely refuses to marry him has subtly hardened over their time together. When he met her, she had been brittle like crystal and just as cold, all edges and angles, cruel facets of intelligence. Now her skin has drawn tighter to her bones, the muscles of her body taut and strong, the wide green eyes thoughtful and ever determined, so much like Lyra and so much her own fierce tender self.

Those eyes flick at him now, still make his heart triple thump because her attention focused on him has always been a kind of arousal, a source of gratitude. “They’ve found each other, the twins. And they’re both Sith.”

Chilled, Krennic tries to keep his tone level. “How do you know?”

“Nari told me. When I asked her to bring the cake for today. And they’re looking, Krennic. They’re searching for Force-sensitives like them --”

“You think it was them.”

“It’s likely, isn’t it?”

He agrees, the panic overtaken by strategy. Leaning forward, he recalibrates the nav system. “We could make the jump to Yavin 4 any time. But,” he looks sharply at her, “you don’t want to give Liadan over to Palpatine. What else can we do? We can’t hide her forever, that’s no life for her either.”

Jyn tilts her chin up, her eyes direct. “What if we search them out instead?”

He stares, his mind zipping ahead. “You want to use our child as bait for the Sith twins?”

“She’s already bait,” says Jyn coolly. “They won’t stop coming after her, after us. If we go to them, if Palps arms her enough against them --”

“She’s a seven year old child, they’ll blast through her mind. You’ve seen what they do! What the fuck is wrong with you!”

Jyn sits up, her bare feet thudding to the ship floor. “What if she’s strong enough to withstand them?”

“What if she’s not!”

In the stinging silence, she looks to the side, her eyes dark with turmoil. 

“You can’t put her in that, Jyn,” he says softly. 

She doesn’t reply for a few seconds and then says, not looking at him. “We can’t make that decision for her, can we?”

He takes a moment to understand. Remembering that this woman didn’t have the choices he did. That she was forced into a regime too young to understand what she was taught to believe. “No,” he murmurs and reaches out to touch her hand, so fiercely glad they found each other, that she chose him and this life together.

She gives him a crooked little smile, so charming he leans forward and kisses her with that same fierce gladness. She sets the cup aside and climbs into his lap, all warm and affectionate, tasting of caf and her own sweetness. “Oof,” he mutters, “you know this doesn’t work, chair’s too narrow --”

“We need a bigger chair,” Jyn murmurs and grinds shamelessly against his stirring cock.

“She’s going to come in, you know what she’s like.”

Jyn giggles, licking at his mouth as she burrows her hands into his trousers. For the first few years of Liadan’s life, they were sure her powers centred around interrupting their every attempt at sex. And she’s still infernally good at it, although they’ve been informed by plenty of parents that it’s not a talent particular to Force users. Still Palps has her enthralled in the lessons so Krennic manages to prove to both himself and Jyn that the pilot seat isn’t too narrow after all.

____________

 

The Warracknabeal touches down on the spaceport just south of Salis D’aar. Liadan is tired enough from her lesson that she eats in silence and then curls up in Krennic’s arms as they take a speeder to the city. It’s good timing because Jyn can then safely smuggle Liadan’s presents past without her noticing. In the nature park accommodations, they let her sleep on as they check the final preparations with the staff. 

At one point, Krennic passes the bedroom entrance and stops to watch Jyn bend over their sleeping daughter, her face tight with anxiety as she adjusts the crystal fastened around Liadan’s neck. And he sends a thought out to Lyra, wherever she is in the cosmos, to protect this vulnerable child in her dreams where they can’t follow her.

The guests arrive in a steady stream of shouts and greetings, of smiles and presents. Seven years of people charmed by Liadan across spaceports and shipyards and cantinas and villages and cities, people of different species and ages and temperaments. Krennic leaves Jyn to get dressed and goes out to do the welcoming host bit. And the worry recedes to the back of his mind, caught up in the joy of familiar faces and raucous jokes. He’s told he’s getting too grey, too decrepit, too boring in his old age. He tells them to fuck off and have a drink before he throws them out. It seems like a running joke across the goddamned galaxy that any man who wants to keep up with Jyn Erso’s reckless energy is a man who can’t afford to get old.

“Too fucken right,” Krennic agrees, laughing.

Galen and Bodhi arrive, all beams and weighed down under a ridiculous amount of presents.

“You know you spoil her,” Krennic splutters, trying to help them unload onto the table. “She’s going to turn into an entitled little brat because of you two.”

“Nonsense,” says Galen, ever the indulgent grandfather who hears only what he wants. “She deserves every single one, we found them specially for her.”

“And made some,” Bodhi adds, eyes bright. “She’s going to love them.”

Krennic nabs a passing waiter and gets each of them a beer. “I hate to tell you this, mate, but she’s only focused on the U-Wing trip you promised her.”

“Oh.” Galen’s face falls.

“Oh, excellent,” bellows Bodhi, his enthusiasm infectious. “Great, that’s -- are you sulking, Galen? You can’t compete with --”

Krennic leaves them to sort out Liadan’s favouritism. Beer in hand, he strolls across the green field strung with coloured streamers overhead, arranged with long wooden tables filling with guests clamouring amongst themselves. The food is being set out in a marquee to one side, sending rich delicious aromas through the noon sunshine. Reed and Tkir arrive with the rest of the Myneyrshi, and there’s a lot of yelling at Krennic who yells gleefully back in the tumult of hugs and more damned presents.

Eventually, the birthday girl herself emerges, guided out by her very amused mother. She's in her special birthday outfit, a new red top and blue jeans, dark hair gathered into two outrageous tufts on either side of her head. Liadan takes one look at the joyous crowd, at the balloons and decorations, and turns red with shyness, clings to Jyn’s leg. “Oh baby,” Krennic laughs and scoops her up into his arms. She promptly presses her hot little face against his neck. 

“It’ll take her a little while to get used to everyone,” Jyn’s assuring a concerned Nari Sable. And sure enough, as they circle through the guests, saying hello, Liadan’s shyness melts enough that she peers out and is then letting people kiss her on the cheek. She squeals and launches herself at her grandfather and Uncle Bodhi, and then it’s no holds barred. Then she’s queen of the party, racing all over the grass, eventually trailing streamers behind her, face smeared with ice cream, leader of a terrible pack of child predators.

When it’s time to cut the cake, Jyn tackles her daughter and picks her up to much outrage. “Shush up, look!”

“Oooh!” Liadan’s eyes go very round, making Krennic stifle a laugh. Definitely her mother’s daughter, easily distracted by food.

It’s a great chocolate mountainous thing, presided over by a beaming Nari Sable. His hands light on Jyn's hips, Krennic stands behind her, his heart pulsing with delight. This is his life, their life. She leans against him, Liadan squirming in her arms, and he knows her smile is vivid and beautiful. 

Palps is there to give a speech about his best and most troublesome student. Anya Foravis grins at them out of the crowd. Shara and her family are in there, her little boy pulling faces at Liadan across the distance. And with a slight shock, Krennic catches sight of a tall shaggy haired man with a scarred face standing far back, nearly at the trees.

___________

 

Later after the debris has been cleared away and they’ve put their exhausted daughter to bed, Krennic goes into the room he shares with Jyn. The night is cool and dark at the window and she’s closing it enough to let a whisper of a breeze in. “Did you see him?”

Without waiting for an answer, Krennic sits on the end of the bed, reaching to undo his boots.

“Skywalker? Yes. You didn’t --”

“I didn’t invite him,” Krennic says shortly.

“Hmm. He must have come with Palps.” She moves towards the bed, undoing her top. “Why do you think --”

“I am not letting him anywhere near her.” It’s panic burning through him now. “If the twins are after -- they’re going to clash with him at some point.” Krennic glares at Jyn. “I won’t have her caught between that. Fucken Skywalkers.”

“Hmm,” Jyn says again, thoughtful as she sheds her clothes.

“What,” Krennic challenges, on edge. “You want to send our child to train with him now? Send her up against the entire fucken Sith and all they can do, the whole fucken Dark Side?”

“It’s not the whole Sith Order, they’re all but gone now --”

She’s deliberately provoking him. “Are you really going to argue semantics with me now? Really, Jyn?”

The very charming mother of his child laughs and gets into bed behind him. Arranges herself with her arms behind her head and her legs neatly crossed at the ankles. Quite naked.

Half-turned, he looks at the toned muscles of her body, at the places where the silver stretch marks on her breasts and belly have long since faded, marks that he kissed and she sighed about. He knows her body as well as she knows his, loves it fiercely and without doubt. And knows exactly how she uses it against him.

Krennic scowls. “Don’t distract me. We’re arguing now.”

“Thought you didn’t want to argue semantics,” she counters, eyes sparkling.

“No, I’d rather argue the fate of our child, if you don’t mind.”

Jyn makes a face, settling her arms better. “I’m not sure we know enough yet. Certainly, I think she’s better off being taught by Palps and the broody one. They can only make her stronger, and that has to be the best thing for her. Don’t you think?”

It’s too sensible to argue with. Sighing, Krennic undresses and joins her in bed, turning out the lamp. The moonlight is reddish tonight, unnerves him a little. As she turns to kiss him, her mouth warm and comforting, he strokes down the length of her bare arm. And in the strangely coloured darkness between them, Jyn says softly, “She has a son.”

“Who?”

“Leia Organa. Nari told me today. The other children Liadan was told about, the ones like her -- I think he’s one of them.”

“What does that mean,” Krennic asks, his breath tight in his chest.

“I don’t know. But if we’re so afraid for our child, imagine what Leia must be for her son.”

“She’s Sith, it doesn’t --”

“It doesn’t matter?” Jyn pulls back a little. “Your wife is a former Imperial officer. Are you telling me that people of the Empire, of the Sith aren’t people too?”

He can’t resist. “You’re not my wife, remember?”

She jabs him lightly. “Semantics. You know what I mean.”

Giving up for now, Krennic pulls her close and kisses her deep. Long and deep enough that she melts against him, pulling him so his body covers hers, arms twining around his neck. They make love in the crimson moonlight, hot and intense, muffled moans, digging in nails and biting gently at each other. And when they’re lying together, damp with sweat, their hearts slowing, Krennic runs the fingertips of one hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear.

“Oh!” He sits up abruptly, dislodging her.

“What?”

“I forgot the -- where’s --” He finds his wallet on the dresser, and fumbles into his trousers in the darkness.

When he cracks open the door to Liadan’s room, there’s the faintest blue light that fades to reddish shadows. “Yes, yes,” Krennic murmurs under his breath. “I know you’re there.”

His daughter sleeps soundly in her furry footie pajamas, one hand tucked under her cheek. The X-Wing fighter is nestled beside her pillow, and on the other side is a new friend, a little green creature with big ears. Krennic strokes one fingertip down the soft curve of her cheek, so much tenderness in his chest it hurts and heals to look at her. In silence, he tucks a credit under the little green creature and drops a kiss onto the dark soft hair. When he closes the door, the light is turning blue.

“All right now,” Jyn asks wryly as he comes back to their bed.

“Mm-hmm. All good.” He kisses her and they settle down together. As sleep comes curling around them, he remembers. The first tooth he lost, his mother had done the exact same thing, stolen into his room to place a credit below his pillow.

He lies there, thinking about mothers and sons, and mothers and daughters. The mother in bed with him is stroking her fingers up and down his side, so constantly he knows she’s not even aware of it, from above his nipple right down to the point of his hip. She does it whenever they’re like this and she’s thinking so hard.

“You want to make contact with her, don’t you?”

Jyn glances up at him. “What, sort of a mother to mother thing? I hadn’t thought of it exactly like that.”

He smiles and closes his eyes. “You will.”

She makes a little huff of annoyance, rubbing her cheek against his chest. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

His grin widens, eyes still shut against the red. “Maybe.”

Or maybe he just knows her.

**Author's Note:**

> All right, so I was thinking about the fact that I didn't have anything for the Role Reversal day of Jynnic Week cos I posted the huge long pregnancy sequel at the start of January. And literally yesterday at like fucken two in the morning, I got this idea of Liadan creeping into their bed and flopping onto Krennic's chest. So this was meant to be just one short scene of tooth-rotting (haha) fluff from his pov. But then she said the thing about the voice and suddenly I was plunged into the whole terror of dealing with a Force-sensitive child. And yes, OF COURSE all my Kylo Ren feels came boiling to the surface, sorry not sorry.
> 
> I make absolutely no promises about a follow-up. It was terrifying enough writing the words "Skywalker twins" and then realising I could have Anakin standing in the background. My Anakin. *holds him and sobs*
> 
> Oh yes, and Warracknabeal is the town where Nick Cave was born. Now you know. :p


End file.
